


Drain

by Boomchick



Series: The Trooper Series [2]
Category: Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-17 10:06:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2305838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boomchick/pseuds/Boomchick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sephiroth is grievously wounded on a mountainside. He is resigned to the fact that no one will come for him. Could be considered a sequel to Survivor's Guilt. Cover art by Tomowowo! Visit Tumblr for the image! (Link within) No pairings. ONESHOT.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drain

**Author's Note:**

> Cover art by the INCREDIBLE Tomowowo! Please check out the original post for the full-sized version here: http://boomchickfanfiction.tumblr.com/post/97327091884/drain-a-ffvii-oneshot One could consider this a sequel to Survivor's Guilt, but it's a stand alone in-and-of-itself. :)

Sephiroth had taken too many bullets. He’d been prepared for the usual resistance from this band of Wutaian freedom fighters. Rifles and scimitars he could handle. The automatic weaponry that had filled his chest with lead was not what he’d steeled himself to receive when he charged into the base at the mountain top.

The machine gun and its wielder had fallen, both sliced into seven neat pieces, but not before they’d taken their toll. Sephiroth staggered, looking down the mountainside at the miles of travel before him. He’d been sent alone. There was no backup coming for him. After all, why would the Demon of Wutai need backup? As far as the army was concerned, he was an ace-in-the-hole weapon. There was no need to send in a rescue team to save the bomb you dropped.

Sephiroth gave a low, bitter laugh as he paused where he stood, Masamune wavering in his hand. Her point dipped, touching the ground, and he wheezed out a breath. He could feel every one of the bullets inside him—Could feel his body fighting to heal and push them out of his skin. He could feel it starting to fail.

 He managed a few more steps, but not many. Every motion grated the bullets that rested under his ribs against bone, and his body rebelled in fear, instinctually resisting his movement as it forced the bullets closer and closer to piercing his heart. He sat slowly, Masamune held in his hand, a comforting presence, and the one he had relied on longest.

A year ago, he’d have relaxed there knowing Genesis and Angeal would come for him. Three months ago, he’d have said Zack would without a doubt. But he and Zachary no longer spoke much since Angeal’s death, and everyone else Sephiroth would have once depended upon was gone.

He sat still, one leg stretched before him, and the other bent upwards, giving him a place to rest his arm, and relaxed none the less. No one was coming, and who knew how long it would take them to find the body of their once-great General. If they found it at all. He dearly wished he would still exist after death, at least long enough to see Hojo’s face when he learned of his demise. What a disappointment it would be for him…

He sat there a long while, breathing slowly and trying not to think about the blood still streaking down his chest as bullet wounds re-opened, forcing the projectiles out of his skin one by one, pointlessly trying to salvage him.

"It’s useless to try." He muttered to his own body. "That was easily thirty five that made contact. You can’t even heal all the internal bleeding, can you? Why bother with the bullets when you can’t even fix that?"

His stomach churned, and he rolled his eyes. He’d felt the bullet that pierced him there. He very much hoped his end would be more elegant than sitting around throwing up his own blood until he exsanguinated. He let out another breath, and felt it shiver in his lungs.

He was very tired.

He let himself phase out, blocking out the pain with disinterest. It was a skill he was well-practiced at. He picked out a rock on the mountainside and stared at it without seeing it at all. He supposed he ought to have thought of something nice, but he was busy thinking of nothing. Nothing at all. Peace and quiet and static, like a world filled with white noise. It would have been perfect if it weren’t for his own ragged breathing. And the voice calling…

Sephiroth blinked out of his haze, lifting his head in a weary jerk, like a schoolboy caught falling asleep at his desk. Someone was calling his name. He cleared his throat to call back, but the very act sent him into a coughing fit that left him curled in on himself, trembling with the pain of the wounds inside him he’d irritated with the motion. The voice called again.

"Sir? Is that you?"

"Cloud?" Sephiroth whispered in confusion, lifting his head and wiping the blood from his lips. He tightened his hold on Masamune, using his grip on her hilt to ground himself in reality.

Blonde hair crested the rise of the almost cliff-steep mountainside first, and it was followed by a familiar face and form. Sephiroth’s heart clenched, and it was hard to tell exactly whether or not it was from pain or from Cloud’s presence. His physiology often reacted strangely to the blond infantryman.

"There you are." Cloud puffed. "The commander said he needed you and since I’m the only one used to the thinner air I had to…. Sir? Are you bleeding?"

"Very astute." Sephiroth’s voice was annoyingly weak as he replied. "Go back and tell the commander I’ll be with him presently, Cloud."

Cloud showed no sign of moving. He stood there frozen, the toes of his boots dug into good, solid holds on the stone mountain face and his posture slightly crouched to keep his center of gravity low. He was breathing hard, but not as hard as Sephiroth himself was.

The low oxygen this high in the mountains usually wouldn’t have affected Sephiroth in the slightest, but with as little blood as he had remaining, every scrap of oxygen his lungs could scrounge from the air was precious to his form. He himself didn’t much care about the burning suffocation he felt clamoring at the edge off is awareness.

"Sir," Cloud said slowly. "That’s a lot of blood."

"I’m aware." Sephiroth replied. "Intimately aware, in fact."

The last word came out in a wheeze, and he fought off another coughing fit. His body was starting to tremble, and he tried to summon the energy to cruelly cast off Cloud’s presence. It was harder to do than it should have been. He was fond of Cloud—Zack had been careful to ensure that the two of them spent a great deal of time together getting closer. Sephiroth still wasn’t sure why.

Cloud stepped forward, his legs obviously straining after the arduous climb. He crossed the distance between them while Sephiroth was still fighting off the coughing fit, and crouched at his side.

"Are those bullets?" The younger man asked weakly, glancing up to Sephiroth’s face with fear in his bright blue eyes.

Sephiroth swallowed back blood and bile, nodding in response.

"You need a medic," Cloud breathed, fishing in his pocket for his phone. "I’ll call up a team—"

"There’s no reception." Sephiroth finally managed.

Stubbornly, the blond flipped his phone open none the less. Sephiroth watched his brows twist in fear as he stared at the bleak message painted by his PHS’s signal display.

"Go back down the mountain." Sephiroth rasped. "That’s an order."

"Sir…" Cloud started, shifting a little beside him. A small rock rattled away, tumbling down the mountain. He shook his head, restarting with a look of worry written all over his face. "Sephiroth, I can’t just leave you."

Sephiroth glanced away at the use of his name. He couldn’t object. He’d given Cloud express permission to call him by name when they were alone or with Zack. Really, it had been more of an order than permission, thinking back on it.

"There’s nothing you can do." Sephiroth said softly. "If you want to assist me, go back for help."

"Will you last that long?" Cloud asked softly, lifting a hand from his side.

Sephiroth watched his fingers reach out as he spoke towards his bleeding chest as another bullet forced itself free, bouncing off the leather of his jacket and tumbling down the mountain like any common stone. Cloud’s fingers almost touched before he jerked back his hand, rethinking the intimate impulse.

Sephiroth wanted to lie to him, but the honest concern in Cloud’s eyes was too wounded. Too precious. Something in him wanted it. Something in him wanted to know that someone would worry—That anyone would mourn for him.

"Probably not." He responded in a low voice.

"You don’t have a cure?" Cloud’s voice was shaking now, and he’d dropped from crouching to kneel on the hard stone ground.

"I don’t have the energy to use it." Sephiroth responded dryly. "And unless I’m mistaken, infantrymen don’t use materia at all. You won’t be able to handle it. Better if you go, Cloud. This won’t be pretty."

"Give it to me." Cloud demanded softly. "Let me try."

"If you exhaust yourself, there will just be two of us stranded here." Sephiroth sighed, his lip twitching in displeasure as he felt a trickle of blood slide from between his lips.

"I can’t just walk away." Cloud whispered.

"Remember what we talked about." Sephiroth managed to say around a mouthful of blood. He had to turn and spit the viscous liquid away from the blond before he could finish his warning. "You are a warrior. And it is your duty not to add to the pile of bodies."

"I won’t leave you." Cloud whispered.

"Even if staying means watching me die?" Sephiroth asked, trying not to notice the tears welling in the younger man’s eyes.

"If I go, that won’t change. You’ll just be alone."

"Maybe I want to be." Sephiroth muttered.

"I don’t think you do." Cloud’s voice was clearer now. "I’m sorry. I know I’m not Zack, I know we only barely know each other, and I know I probably can’t do anything to help but please. Let me try."

Sephiroth turned his eyes to meet Cloud’s fully. They locked eye contact, and the younger man did not flinch or turn away from his strange gaze. He met Sephiroth’s look with eyes that were wide and brows that were furrowed. Sephiroth took the pieces of the puzzle and tried to add them. Eyes—teary. Lips—down turned, trembling. Brow—furrowed and lowered. Posture—tense.

'Sorrow.' The part of his mind that had never found emotion easy supplied. 'Anxiety. Concern.'

"Cloud…"

His traitorous body cut him off. He jolted as pain flared through him. He clenched his teeth, holding back as scream as he felt his body pushing a bullet through him, deciding that the closest path was the neatest and shoving it out through his back. He felt it slide out of his skin next to his spine, pinned between his back and the taut leather of his jacket. The tension and pain left him choking for breath, thick ropes of blood and spit escaping between his lips as he gasped for air.

Hands caught him, supported him, and Sephiroth could not resist leaning into the fingers that caressed his hair with a shaking, uncertain soothing motion. He leaned against the firm support that Cloud offered and gasped for breath, his lungs and body burning with the agony of approaching death.

"Sephiroth," Cloud’s voice was calling in his ear. "Sephiroth, hold on."

The racking slide of a rifle cocking cut through the air, and Sephiroth reacted on pure instinct. He wrapped an arm around Cloud and turned sharply, dragging the cadet over and beneath him as he rolled. He barely got Masamune out of the way before slicing the younger man open by turning him on top of her blade.

The bullet bit into his shoulder as he flipped them, and he howled in agony, biting it back after a moment. The bullet in his shoulder was nothing, but the hard movement churned his torn insides, awakening pain so intense it almost drove him to unconsciousness. As his vision tunneled, he heard distant cursing, and the sound of someone starting to reload.

"Stay down!" He choked to Cloud, fighting to rise. He was halted by muscles that would not move. He was too far gone. He couldn’t fight. Fear clenched inside him as he had not felt while he was dying alone.

He clenched his teeth, the thick blood flowing down onto Cloud. He fought a battle of will against his dying body and lost. He slumped over his almost-friend, only barely keeping from falling on top of him. He wheezed in a breath, clenching his teeth against frustration. If Cloud had just left when he was told…

A smaller hand mirrored his grip in Masamune, and Sephiroth blinked from the brink of blackness, staring down at Cloud in shock as the infantryman wriggled from beneath him, his grip tight on Masamune.

"Let go." Cloud ordered, his voice sharp and firm.

"You’ll never wield her," Sephiroth gasped. "She’s too heavy."

"I’m not fast enough with my gun, and if I don’t then we’re both dead. Let GO."

Sephiroth’s hand followed the command without his brain’s full assent. Before he could object, Cloud was squirming out from between his arms, lifting Masamune and charging up the hill with all the power of the wild mountain goats Sephiroth had seen during his long hike to the rebel camp.

Masamune raised sparks on the ground as Cloud screamed his defiance, blazing towards the glint of their attacker’s rifle. The man squeezed off a shot, but it ricocheted. Cloud was moving too fast and too aggressively for the aim to be true. Sephiroth watched just long enough to see the man lift his gun to block the strike.

Cloud swung with more strength than someone his size should have managed. Masamune cleaved through gun and man both, wedging in the column of their attacker’s spine and sticking there.

Sephiroth’s arms gave out under him, and he slumped to the ground, grimacing in pain as his wounded chest was pressed against uneven stone. Above him, he could hear the dying attacker’s gurgles, and Cloud’s heavy, gasping breaths. He watched a waterfall of blood slowly slide past him to the right, and wondered if this was Cloud’s first sword kill.

Masamune had a distinctive noise. Sephiroth heard when Cloud managed to get her free of the corpse, and listened to her slide on the ground as the infantryman returned slowly. He heard the unenhanced man struggling and failing to lift her tip off the ground again, and appreciated the effort in a silent, wry way. He couldn’t believe Cloud had lifted her in the first place.

The cadet dropped by Sephiroth’s side, gasping in breath like a landed fish. Sephiroth grimaced as Cloud gripped his shoulder and turned him over onto his back, but he managed to restrain the sounds of pain. Or, perhaps, he just didn’t have the breath for the howl of agony trapped in his throat to escape.

"I lifted your sword." Cloud gasped once he’d gotten Sephiroth turned over, staring down at him with intense, narrowed eyes. "So give me your cure. Let me prove you wrong twice today, Sephiroth."

"You’ll never have the strength to get back to camp" Sephiroth wheezed.

"My leg’s shot anyhow." Cloud replied in a rasp. "So neither of us have anything to lose. Give it to me."

Sephiroth stared up at him, then shifted his gaze down looking for the wound. The calf of Cloud’s right pants leg was darkening with blood. Sephiroth wanted to scream. Instead he just closed his eyes, feeling his lips tighten with displeasure and sorrow.

"Try then." He assented. "My right bangle."

"I’ve got it." Cloud responded.

He lifted Sephiroth’s limp arm and pried the bangle free. Sephiroth had to concentrate to break the magic connecting to him, and that concentration took the rest of his strength. He felt the bangle slip free, and his arm fell limp as Cloud released it.

Sephiroth stared up at the sky, watching the clouds swim and weave above them. They were flickering as though lightning were flashing inside them. He gazed up into the air, losing himself in the sky as his vision slowly went grey, and his hearing faded out to the sound of Cloud’s ragged breathing and the tingle of attempted restore magic.

He reached out weakly and caught one of Cloud’s hands. It was selfish of him. Cloud had been hurt for his sake, and now he was just as likely to die on this mountainside as Sephiroth himself was. But it was good to not be alone. He squeezed Cloud’s fingers lightly, and felt him squeeze back. Then the pain started to fade, and Sephiroth accepted the dark. gratefully.

The next thing he was aware of was gasping in a breath and piercing agony. He roared, overwhelmed by pain. He felt things inside him rip free, tumbling off his chest and stomach as they rose from within him. The bullets, his mind supplied, the piece of knowledge disconnected from the rest of reality as he knew it. Then everything went still and his scream petered out. For a long moment, he just breathed.

Above him, the moon shone, the umbra gleaming like a halo in sky. Stars glinted distant, dimmed by the moon’s brightness. Someone was sobbing beside him. Sephiroth turned his eyes to find Cloud, waxen with effort, sweat beaded on his skin and every line of his face strained with exhaustion.

"Cloud?" Sephiroth whispered.

"T-Technically," Cloud’s breathing was ragged, and his eyes filled with tears, "It took me till past midnight… So I only proved you wrong t—twice in two days…"

Sephiroth sat up, inhaling deeply. Inside him, the cure was still waging its war against torn organs and bleeding. He turned to the side, away from the trembling cadet, and threw up. He closed his eyes to avoid the sight of what he knew would be curdled blood. This was not his first walk in the park with ugly stomach wounds.

When he straightened again, he could breathe. He flexed a hand, blinking to clear his vision. He was healing. And the spell still wasn’t finished.

A clatter drew his attention off of the internal workings of his body and to the man who’d saved him. Cloud lay fallen beside him.

Sephiroth was so out of it that it took him long moments to shake himself into checking on how bad Cloud was. His mind was reeling. He’d been saved. He looked to the blood-drenched leg of Cloud’s pants, and shifted stiffly closer, resting a hand on his shoulder blade.

He could feel the younger man’s back rising and falling as he breathed. He watched the pulse thrum in his neck.

"You could have killed yourself with that stunt." He whispered to Cloud as he gently turned him onto his back to get his face off of the ground.

Cloud was pale, sweat and tears on his face. Sephiroth pulled the blood-stained glove off his right hand and wiped away the salty liquid from Cloud’s cheeks. Cloud turned into the touch, rousing slowly back to awareness. He squinted up at Sephiroth from eyes that looked even bluer than usual juxtaposed with his bloodshot sclera.

"Did it work?" Cloud whispered, his voice cracking with disuse and dehydration.

"So it appears." Sephiroth murmured. "Though Gods only know how you managed it."

"Always been stubborn." Cloud said in reply, his eyes closing again. "Are we gonna live?"

"Yes." Sephiroth said. "But you need to stay awake. Understood?"

"I don’t think I can walk." Cloud said, his brows twisting. "I guess I won’t be much of a Soldier with a bum leg…”

"Being temporarily incapacitated is nothing to whine over." Sephiroth said, though it was more to annoy the trooper than anything.

He wanted to see Cloud’s eyes turn lively again. The fear in his stomach had returned with his consciousness, and for good reason. Cloud was human. He’d lost a great deal of blood. And on top of that he’d spent what energy he had on healing Sephiroth with a cure that should have been low-level at best. And yet from the way Sephiroth feel, it had done the work of a nearly-mastered spell.

Instead of retaliating Cloud gave a piteous sniffle, lifting a shaking hand to wipe his sleeve over his face. Guilt rose up beside fear within Sephiroth.

"It hurts." Cloud whispered.

"I know." Sephiroth said after a moment. "Bear it a little while longer. Come on now. Sit up."

He helped maneuver Cloud into a sitting position, then turned his back, pulling his hair out of the way. He glanced back when nothing changed and furrowed his brows at Cloud’s lost expression.

"Climb on." He prompted. "I’m sorry I can’t carry you properly, but leaving Masamune is not an option. And in my current state, I cannot multitask as well as usual."

Blue eyes widened, and for a moment Cloud looked like he would object. Sephiroth frowned repressively at the shocked look on his face.

"You just saved my life, Cloud." Sephiroth said. "And on top of that, we are friends, after a fashion, are we not?"

"Y…Yeah." Cloud whispered.

"Then why are you hesitating?" Sephiroth prompted firmly.

Cloud appeared unable to find an answer. He leaned forward slowly, wrapping his arms over Sephiroth’s shoulders slowly and twining his hands over the General’s sternum. Sephiroth nodded his approval and stood slowly, catching hold of the fallen Masamune’s hilt as he did. Cloud’s hands clenched together and he made a restrained sound of pain as the motion moved his wounded leg, but he restrained the scream that threatened to break loose.

Sephiroth reached back with one hand to support some of the young man’s weight and started walking. His legs shook, but he reached into his well of strength and found some left to steady himself. He was far from his peak—he couldn’t run down the mountainside and deliver Cloud to medical assistance as he wanted—but he could carry him.

"Sir?" Cloud asked in his ear.

"We are alone." Sephiroth prompted softly in return, feeling his friend slowly pillow his cheek on his armored shoulder.

"Right." Cloud whispered. "Sephiroth, then."

"Yes, Cloud?"

"I’m glad you’re okay." Cloud whispered, squeezing him gently, as though he were hugging him and not clinging to him for dear life.

Sephiroth was silent a long moment, then let out a slow breath, his eyes fixed on the ground before him as he focused on finding steady footing for himself on the way down the mountain.

"After some consideration," he murmured to his unlikely savior. "I find that I am too."


End file.
